Ätherwellen
by coloursflyaway
Summary: There are three-hundred and twenty-six members in Kingsman's tech departments all over the world, and obviously they have lots of stories to share about their agents and what they do to drive them crazy. The best way to do so is a super-secret WhatsApp group, and if it gets a challenge for all of them to finally get Harry and Eggsy together, it might just be Merlin's fault.


Merlin presses send, immediately sharing the picture with a total of three-hundred and twenty-six different agents.  
It's a picture of a naked arse, belonging to a certain Scandinavian princess with the caption _I am not getting paid enough to deal with this shit._

Ten seconds later, his phone buzzes, Polyhymna's pretty face filling up the small screen. Her dark, brown eyes are filled with compassion, beneath it, there is a message.  
 _You really aren't_ , it reads, _none of us are. But did saving the world go okay?_

 _Yeah_ , Merlin replies, shakes his head. _But sometimes I wish it hadn't. These fucking agents._

Harry turns out to be alive, even if wounded, and Eggsy won't leave his side for days. It was to be expected, seeing how attached Eggsy has gotten to his mentor but it still drives Merlin crazy, because he's got more than enough to do without taking care of Eggsy too.  
Still, he lets the boy stay where he is, lets him watch every step and every procedure, once takes a picture of him when he's fallen asleep on the chair next to Harry's bed.

His mouth is hanging open and there is a chequered blanket over his lap, keeping him warm, and Merlin sends it off with the caption, _Galahad found himself a new puppy_.

There is a sound recording waiting for him when he comes back from his coffee break, titled sinfonie_des_ 3, and Merlin pulls a face before he even presses play. His agents are insufferable sometimes, are obnoxious and drive him crazy at least thrice a day, but at least he's not working for the Germans.  
The Germans are _bad_.

Still, he clicks play, and winces. Someone – most likely Kriemhild – is singing, loud and falsely and what might be Britney Spears, the shrill voice easily heard over the sound of the shower.  
He scrolls down until he finds the caption: _When will these fucking agents finally learn to turn off their microphones?_

 _Never_ , he replies, _that is the problem._

"Oh my fucking God", Morgan yells as she pushes open the door to Merlin's office, her phone in her hands, the bright green case clashing with her pink nail polish. She's been part of the Merlin department almost as long as Merlin himself, and while she can be the sweetest creature in existence, he would never want to get on her bad side. Ever.  
"Did you see what Murugan posted. I just. Merlin. Why."

Merlin raises an eyebrow, but fishes his phone out of his pocket, sees thirty-nine new messages in their super-secret chat group. This has to be either hilarious or absolutely horrible.  
It turns out to be the latter.  
Apparently two of the Indian agents – Merlin cannot make out their faces in the grainy video – managed to not just crash the famous boat race in Kerala, but also accidentally kidnapped one of Malaysia's higher diplomats.

"Morgan", Merlin says, even while he types his condolences. "Send them some of the emergency whiskey. And I don't mean the one we give the agents, I mean the good stuff. They'll need it."

 _Does any of you guys have some of that Love Potion No. 9 neurotoxin left?_ , Merlin asks the community of sorely afflicted tech department employees, adds a picture of Eggsy looking up at Harry like Harry hasn't just hung the stars, but formed the whole world out of stardust with his bare hands.  
It's kind of sweet, Merlin has to admit it, especially since he knows that Harry looks at his former protégé in just the same way when he thinks the younger man isn't looking, but the constant pining is also starting to get on his nerves.

 _If those two won't get their shit together, I'll force them to_ , he types, sends, and gets a video of Amelia back, trying and failing to contain her laughter on the middle of Alexanderplatz.  
 _Tell them hi from me_ , she adds, and Merlin sighs, mourns the fact that they couldn't keep the young woman in London once more.

The Scandinavians send a picture or approximately forty bottles of vodka, titled _Preparing for double mission Thor/Sif_.  
Merlin sends them a bottle of finest Scottish whiskey, knowing that forty bottles won't ever be enough for that.

Bedivere decides it's a superb idea to sleep with his target's wife, and it costs all of Merlin's willpower not to tell the agent that he fucking told him so when a group of armed mercenaries barge through his door at night. You do not sleep with the wife of a Russian mobster.  
He posts a picture into the chat, breaks off a long discussion about agents who can't keep it in their pants.  
At least it's nice to know he's not the only one who suffers.

They get a Thank You card from the Indian department, together with enough homemade coconut burfi to last them a month. The Scandinavians don't send anything, but no one minds – they are probably still busy with filing press statements to explain all that collateral damage.

Kū, Hawaii's equivalent of Arthur, decides it would be a good idea to reduce the their tech department's budget by thirty percent, and the next day, every Kingsman branch on the whole world is treated with a forty-eight second video of the head of Hawaii's division cooing lovingly at his quite impressive collection of Barbie dolls.  
Merlin almost feels sorry for the chap, because he's still new and most likely didn't know better, but on the other side, he appreciates the warning for all the other Arthurs and Siegfrieds and Zeuses around.

Amelia sends Merlin two gingerbread hearts for Harry and Eggsy, which she has gotten at the Oktoberfest just for them, and Merlin delights in leaving them on their spots on the conference table.  
He sends the others a picture of Eggsy's blushing cheeks and Harry's uncomfortable looks around.

 _Lancelot just blew up a train station in Abuja_ , Merlin types, sends, and although he will scold Roxy as soon as she gets back, he can't deny that he is a little proud. He's always had a bit of a soft spot for the young woman, even if he wouldn't ever admit it.  
 _Sorry Nigeria HQ._

Agwu Nsi, who Merlin regularly plays virtual chess with, replies with a _¯\\_(ツ_ _)_/¯,_ then adds, _shit happens._  
Merlin loves that man.

 _How are the lovebirds doing?_ Amelia asks, attaches a picture of a half-finished colt-hand grenade hybrid that looks absolutely wicked. _I could use some distraction._

Merlin sends her a little video clip, because he's stuck in another meeting anyway, and because Harry and Eggsy are arguing and it _is_ kind of hilarious.  
"-absolutely forbid it", Harry says, his voice strict and allowing no objection.  
Only that Eggsy doesn't seem to realise that, because he leans forward, starts with, "But 'arry, it's just a bomb. I've done bombs before, it's nothin' new, I-"  
"I will not let you put yourself in unnecessary danger." Harry closes the file in front of him, looks at Eggsy with a mixture of exasperation, fondness and determination. "End of discussion, Galahad."  
"But…"  
"End. Of. Discussion."

For a few moments, they just look at each other, and Merlin almost thinks they'll finally kiss or confess their undying love for each other, or whatever needs to be done to end this misery, but then Eggsy just slumps in his seat, pouts.  
"Fine. But you be'er make it up t' me. An' I don't mean a bottle o' wine in ya office, I'm talkin' dinner an' then wine."  
Roxy turns around to look at him, rolls her eyes, and Merlin just gives her the slightest nod.

On the video, a smile spreads over Harry's face, makes him look disgustingly infatuated. "I'm sure we can work something out there, agent."  
Merlin wonders how it feels to throw up in your mouth.

He posts the video and only a couple of seconds, Amelia send back a selfie of her staring dreamily into the distance. _2 cute_ , she adds, then, _don't die_.

 _Athena wants a goddamned ejector seat_ , Kalliope writes.  
 _The 80s called and wanted their dumb idea back_ , comes the prompt response from Erlang Shen. The young man is only around twenty and yet Merlin knows that he's probably been through more shit than most of them; for some reason, the Chinese cannot stop requesting new gadgets.  
 _Make sure to include a way to activate it from your computer in case she gets annoying (;_ , Morgan adds. _And then send me the blueprints so I can talk Tristan into using one._

Erlang Shen sends Merlin a recipe for wedding cakes and Merlin makes around twenty, serves them to Harry and Eggsy (who both look at him strangely when he comes in with a plate loaded with food) together with 7 UP (since apparently UP is pronounced like the Chinese word for happiness, and popular at weddings) and fortune cookies with lovey-dovey lines hidden inside of them.

Eggsy accidentally sets fire to the Albertina in the middle of Vienna, while he tries to stop some art thief who had been stealing valuable paintings all over Europe and Merlin sends the other's a screenshot with the caption _Time to roast some_ _marshmallows_.

Fucking agents.

The fact that Eggsy brings him a brightly coloured coffee mug as a souvenir and a Sachertorte spelling _I'M SORRY FOR ALMOST DESTROYING ALL THAT ART_ in bright green letters changes almost nothing.

There is a video titled athena_activates_the_ejector_seat_she_asked_for_ and although Merlin knows what awaits him he still laughs so hard there are tears running down his cheeks. Who would have thought that Athena had such a mouth on her.

On Valentine's Day, someone has the glorious idea to photoshop Harry's and Eggsy's heads on the covers of various romantic comedies, bad romance novels and the occasional gay porn stills, and so Merlin has to scroll through myriads of versions of Harry tenderly holding his former protégé n his arms for the rest of the day.  
Quite frankly, it's hilarious, and Merlin adds his own And Along Came Polly manip, even makes the effort to replace the ferret with Eggsy's little pug.

He still ends up printing out Morgan's version of The Notebook and pinning it to his wall the next time Harry comes to visit him, just to watch the other pale and stumble over his words for five minutes straight.

 _Any idea how to fix a laptop?,_ Ngen-che asks and Merlin is about to answer, when the head of the Chilean tech department posts a picture of her whole, pretty head sticking through a hole in the middle of a Kingsman-standard issue laptop.

Merlin deletes what he has written, instead asks, _How on Earth?_  
Then adds, _Fuckin agents._  
 _Amen_ , Catalina adds – because yes, they are on first-name basis, thank you very much – and Merlin makes a mental note to send out more whiskey.

Polyhymna is lying half on top of him, dark hair spread out over his naked chest, and Merlin thanks whoever was responsible for sending his favourite member of the Greek tech department here to get the new rocket shooter they designed.  
"I missed this", she says with a yawn, slips a hand under the blanket to reach for Merlin's soft cock, giving it a slow, teasing stroke. Ever since they met almost twenty years ago, Merlin still new and Polyhymna a candidate for Galahad's position, she's never been one for stopping after just one round.

"Me too", Merlin admits, trails his hand down her back until he can give her arse a squeeze. "You should come back to London more often."  
Polyhymna smiles up at him, twists her wrist just right and makes him moan, buck up into her clever touch.  
"I wish I could", she says, doesn't pick up the pace even if she must know how much Merlin would like her to. "But they need someone to watch those pricks in Athens."  
"Fuckin' agents", Merlin replies and Polyhymna nods, but lets herself be pulled down for another kiss.

Like promised, Polyhymna sends koufetta, fresh, bittersweet almonds, covered in sugar, which are usually served at weddings. Merlin leaves a cup of them on both their spots at the table in the conference room.

Brünhild blows a hole the size of a small country into Cornwall's luscious green meadows and the Germans send three barrels of beer to make up for it.

It's a beautiful, sunny afternoon when Merlin sits Eggsy down in an empty conference room. It's been months now, and truth be told, he just can't take all that pining and lovesickness anymore.  
"Listen, lad", he says, slowly to make sure Eggsy really gets what he is saying. "There is a hundred percent chance that Harry is sitting in his office right now, thinking about shagging you silly as much as you do at any given time. So do us all a favour and just go tell him, alright? Because I swear to God, if you two don't stop pining for each other, I will fucking lose it."

Eggsy looks shell-shocked, doesn't even say a word, and Merlin pats his shoulder, says, "Good talk. Now off you go."  
He turns around, leaves Eggsy behind, and types _Mission accomplished. Hoping for the best._

 _I can't believe these people_ , Ngen-che writes two hours later and posts a picture of a discoloured suit, the grey colour spotted with red and pink. _She washed it with her favourite red jumper._  
 _Aren't these things bulletproof?_ Erlang Shen asks, adds a picture of his shocked face.  
 _Yes, they are_ , Kalliope answers, _But not agent-proof._

Four different versions of _Fucking agents_ pop up simultaneously.

The next morning, there is a bottle of Merlin's favourite whiskey sitting on his desk, and although there is no card, he knows just who it has to be from.  
Finally.

Merlin takes a picture of Roxy, who has fallen asleep on her desk and shares it in their chat with the caption, _No wonder she's exhausted. She almost blew up the Pentagon today._  
Skeggjöld (God, those poor Scandinavians and their awful names) sends a picture of a sleeping Frigga, the tall man's head pillowed by files of all sizes.  
 _This one almost blew up Maputo yesterday_ , she adds, but it is hard to imagine any anger in her voice – it's an open secret that Skeggjöld and Frigga have three children together by now. Occasionally, Skeggjöld even sends pictures.

So although Merlin still has to fix things with the Americans (who won't be too happy about the whole Pentagon thing), he can't help but smile. Sometimes, they aren't quite so bad, those agents.

He absolutely takes that back the next morning, when there is a message waiting for him that reads, _Shiva just drove over a World Heritage Site with a bulldozer._  
Beneath that is a short video of Murugan, banging his head repeatedly against his desk, his groans almost drowning out the TV behind him. It shows a bulldozer destroying the Royal Exhibition Building in Carlton, Australia, and Merlin takes a moment to thank God that his agents aren't quite that bad.

Two days later, Murugan sends a video that shows the whole Indian tech department playing dart while using a picture of Shiva's face as a target.  
Merlin thinks it's highly appropriate.

 _Athens, do you still have some of that ouzo left?,_ Merlin asks and closes his eyes, tries to block out all thoughts until the phone buzzes in his hand. He's not sure if getting drunk will help, but it's definitely worth a try.  
 _Yeah, why? Did someone blow up your lab again?_ Euterpe asks and Merlin _desperately wishes_ it was just that.

Instead of answering, he sends the video feed of his glasses.

Eggsy is slouched in Arthur's chair, his eyes closed and his hair mussed up, white teeth worrying at pink lips. His shirt is partially unbuttoned, exposing one shoulder that is bitten red and pink, just like Eggsy's neck; his legs are spread wide.  
Harry is kneeling in front of him, head bobbing and hand moving in a way that leaves no room for second doubts, making the most godawful, half-muffled noises at the back of his neck, desperately and breathless and loud.  
It's been two hours since Eggsy got back from a three-week mission to New Zealand, so maybe Merlin should have known, but that doesn't make it better when Eggsy moans Harry's name, threads a hand into the older man's hair.

Merlin stops transmitting after that, because Eggsy had noticed Merlin two seconds later, had yelped and Harry had pulled off, giving Merlin a good view of their youngest agent's hard, leaking cock. And while Merlin thinks that these two deserve their punishment, he isn't mean enough as to let that part travel around the world.

 _Does that explain it?,_ he asks instead, imagines Polyhymna giggling and rubbing a little against her seat.  
 _That explains everything_ , Euterpe answers, then, after a second, adds, _Fucking agents?_

Merlin groans, but then replies _, Yes. Fucking agents._


End file.
